


Kindred Spirits

by therobotjane



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Addiction, Aszuna, Azurewing Repose quest chain, Loss, Nightfallen, Runas broke my heart and deserves better, sadfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjane/pseuds/therobotjane
Summary: For a demon hunter, victory always seemed to be tainted with loss.Sindreiel was searching for the Pillars of Creation, to save Azeroth from the Legion. One of the Pillars, the Tidestone, was in Aszuna. But the dragon that could help her find it was weakened, his brood preyed upon by mana-starved nightfallen. He needed her help.The demon hunter did not expect fate to bring her together with someone whom she could trust...and who, more surprisingly, trusted her.





	Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding to this story once I finish the Suramar content. Runas is getting the ending he deserves, even if it's only in a fan work.

Sindreiel entered the nightfallen’s cave, expecting the worst. If this creature had been draining innocent whelplings of their energy to feed his own hunger, there was likely very little he _wouldn’t_ do for a fix.

Curled up on a ratty blanket spread over the stone floor of the cave was her target, Runas the Shamed. He didn’t look anything like she’d expected. Sindreiel had cut a swath through the withered that were infesting the whelplands to get to this cave but all of those sad remnants had been feral and mindless. Runas looked as though he was sleeping more or less peacefully, only twitching slightly in his slumber. He had no blanket to cover his strange body, rendered lithe and dusky by the curse of the nightfallen. Arcane-looking tattoos, not so different from Sindreiel’s own, curled their patterns across his arms and chest before disappearing under the simple leather loincloth he was wearing. She couldn’t even guess what color his hair, now stark white, had started out, since night elves came in such a rainbow.

Runas shivered, drawing his knees up closer to his stomach. He looked cold.

It would be better to end it swiftly, before he woke. Sindreiel had no urge to make this poor creature feel fear and pain before he died.

She bared her twin glaives, sure that their razor-edges would make quick work of this. They cut through the air with a slight whistle, descending toward their goal.

Runas’ glowing purple eyes shot open and he rolled out of the way with ease, tucking his body and springing to his feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. His long-fingered hands convulsed once, then he leapt at the demon hunter without waiting for an answer.

Sindreiel swung her glaives up to deflect the attack, batting him away easily and spinning into a riposte.

“Those are nice weapons you’ve got there,” Runas commented, ducking out of their way. “It’s a shame they won’t be enough.” He lunged at her legs, fingers outstretched. Sindreiel backstepped just in time to avoid getting grabbed.

With decades of combat experience under her belt, she easily turned her hasty retreat into a feign followed by a quick, darting attack. Runas dodged again, almost too quick to be seen, but not quite quick enough. The tip of one glaive tagged him, drawing a line of glowing blood across his thigh.

Runas’ face went from a look of concentration to one of fury. “Oh, now you’re really starting to make me angry!” he shouted. He extended his hands toward the demon hunter. Reddish energy swirled around them, reaching out toward Sindreiel’s flesh. It touched her, just a whisper, and the agony was nearly unbearable. Anyone who hadn’t spent so much time on the front lines, fighting demons who specialized in torment, likely would’ve gone into shock immediately.

As it was, Sindreiel gritted her teeth and dashed straight forward, into the nightfallen, bearing him down with her body. He fell backward, his skull slamming into the cave floor with a sharp crack. He looked dazed but retained consciousness. His violet eyes narrowed at the demon hunter but the glaives at his throat kept him still. Slowly, he raised in hands in surrender.

“Please, don’t kill me.” Runas’ face softened, a look of good-natured pleading taking up residence there. “I’m sorry for attacking you but, to be fair, you did start it.”

“I was sent to kill you for your crimes against the blue dragonflight.” Sindreiel stayed straddling the nightfallen’s waist, her glaives poised at the ready. But now that the elf was awake, he deserved an explanation. To do otherwise would be cowardly.

“I see.” Runas sighed. “May I sit up, please? I won’t fight or run. I generally wouldn’t complain about having a pretty lass on top of me but the blades are a little off-putting.”

Sindreiel arched an eyebrow but nodded. She returned her glaives to their place on her back without breaking eye-contact with the nightfallen. He smiled encouragingly, which she felt should’ve angered her but instead was oddly endearing. She shifted her weight off of him, taking a seat next to his tattered blanket, legs folded underneath her.

Runas sat up, giving a quick rub to the back of his skull. Now that he was awake and not in a life-threatening situation, he became...twitchy. His restless hands moved up and down his arms, across his face. Nonetheless, he seemed in control of himself.

“You’re not the ravenous beast I expected to find,” Sindreiel commented. 

“Me? Ravenous?” Runas chuckled. “No, no, I’m not like _them_. To prove it, I’ll help you! Yes, that’s a brilliant idea! I’ll help you and the dragons, to show how sorry I am for whatever I did and how trustworthy I can be.”

“I’m not sure that Senegos will want assistance from someone that’s murdered his children.” Sindreiel was starting to feel an inkling of pity for the nightfallen. He clearly had enough of a mind left to want to continue living.

Runas sighed again. “You’re right, of course. Even if I don’t remember doing such a thing. But I know something he doesn’t. I can lead you to Ael’Yith. _He’s_ tapping the leylines directly to get pure mana, much more pure than the mana pools or the dragons.” His fingers convulsed, his nails digging into his forearms. “I can help you. Please...let me be useful.”

Sindreiel’s heart went out to the nightfallen. She understood his suffering a little too well. She nodded. “Very well. I’ll take you to Senegos. But it’s his decision to make, not mine. His brood is the one that’s suffered. All I can do is convey what you’ve told me.”

“Of course, of course, that’s all that could be asked.” Runas got to his feet and held out a hand to assist Sindreiel to hers. She hesitated for a moment then took it, letting the surprisingly strong nightfallen pull her up. His touch left a ghostly, electric sensation on her skin. “Thank you, for not executing me.”

“There’s still time,” Sindreiel commented. “I suggest that you behave so that I don’t have to.”

Runas sketched a deep, courtly bow. “I will be on my best behavior, you have my word.”

Sindreiel wasn’t sure how much the word of a mana-starved nightfallen would be worth but there was only one way to find out. “Come along. The Azurewing Repose isn’t far. And stay close, the road is dangerous.”

Nodding, Runas fell in step behind her.

When the first withered charged at them from the treeline, Sindreiel dispatched it with ease. Its twisted, emaciated face looked nothing like that of the skittish nightfallen in her company.

“Pathetic,” murmured Runas. He kicked at the corpse before turning his eyes to the demon hunter’s face. “It shames me, to see my kin like this. But now, perhaps, you can see how different we are. That I’m not like them. I can’t help what I am but I’m not weak. No, no, not like _them_.” 

As they moved along down the road, he continued to prattle. Sindreiel had to wonder how long he’d been living in exile. How many years since he’d spoken to another being. She let his voice flow over her, strangely soothing, as he wove tales of his childhood among his people, of how things were before. His voice was oddly musical, like a night elf’s would be, but stripped of the better-than-thou tone that night elves usually held. His words were raw and unfiltered, simply happy to be falling on listening ears. Even if his rambling was regularly interrupted with bloodshed as Sindreiel defended them from attacks.

“...the ‘prince’ found the leylines and left the rest of us to starve while he and his favored gorged themselves. So few of us kept our minds. The number of nightfallen has shrunk to near non-existence while the withered crawl over the ruins, getting into every nook and cranny, their hunger uncontrolled.” Runas trailed off, sadness written all over his face.

Sindreiel didn’t know what to say in return. She’d watched fellow Illidari fall to demonic temptation, watched the people that they were fall away and be replaced by evil. She’d had to kill former friends because they’d lost themselves to the Legion. There was no way she could pour that pain out to this virtual stranger, who she’d been sent to kill in the first place. And who she may still have to kill, if Senegos didn’t feel that the nightfallen’s offer of information made up for his attacks on the whelps. So she said nothing.

They rounded the last bend of the road and Azurewing Repose stretched out in front of them, all shades of blue and purple, glimmering with magic. It was a breathtaking sight, one Sindreiel had every intention of enjoying someday, when the Legion was finally destroyed, when the fighting stopped, when Lord Illidan was returned from the Twisting Nether, when the Illidari could finally rest. The thought was both comforting and horrifying. Her entire existence had been defined by the fight for so long that she had no idea what it would be like have no immediate targets, no immediate threats.

Sindreiel approached Senegos with respect, as one does when one is speaking to an ancient dragon. She saluted and stood at attention, as if she was giving a report to a superior. “Senegos, I present to you Runas, the nightfallen. He has requested a chance to atone for his transgressions and wishes to assist us. Will you hear him or shall I finish this swiftly?”

Senegos managed to look taken aback by the demon hunter’s blunt words, a strange effect on a massive, reptilian face. “I will hear him.” He craned his head in Runas’ direction. “Speak, nightfallen.”

Runas tried his best to stand up straight and stop rubbing at his skin. His efforts met with mixed results. “Honorable dragon, I wish to make up for whatever it was that I did that made the demon hunter try to kill me. And I have information to offer you! I know why your pools aren’t working properly. And why withered are overrunning your whelplands. Runas can fix it! Ael’Yith is pulling pure, untainted mana,” he paused, drawing in a shivering breath, “directly from the leylines to the northeast. Ael’Yith has converted Zarkhenar into a siphoning machine, but only for a chosen few.”

“Your people are tapping into the leylines themselves?” Senegos asked, offense and anger evident in his voice.

“ _My_ people? Oh no, no, no. I’m not like _them_ , _I_ only want to help. To make up for what I did, to show how _sorry_ I am. I can guide you there!” Runas looked over the ancient dragon, languishing in his pool, then turned to face Sindreiel. “Or, better idea, I can guide _you_ there. Straight to Ael’Yith’s front door! It’s not too late to undo the harm that the others have done.”

Senegos stared at the nightfallen for several moments before saying, “If you can assist my demon hunter friend, then so be it.” Slowly, he moved his head to face Sindreiel. “Do not trust this one, Sindreiel. Nightfallen are sly and prone to betrayal.”

The number of times that Sindreiel had overheard similar words about the Illidari stung. Of course, the dragon had no way of knowing that. She shrugged it off and nodded.

Runas looked happy. Downright, actually _happy_. “Come on, Sindreiel, may I call you Sindreiel? Or do you prefer a title? Or, since we’re friends now, can I call you Sin?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I let the humans get away with it because it can’t be helped but you’re a fellow elf, you can pronounce my name correctly.” Sindreiel took a moment to summon her felsaber in a swirl of greenish energy.

Runas stared and, for a moment, she thought he was surprised at her mount. Then he softly repeated, “I’m a fellow elf.” A small smile tugged at his lips, a different smile than the good-natured ones he’d been throwing around. He shook his head and distractedly traced a glowing purple rune in the air in front of him. His own mount, a strange, eldritch feline, blinked into existence. He swung up onto the creature and nudged it into motion.

“This way, Sindreiel. It’s time for a family reunion.” Runas continued speaking to her over his shoulder, not really looking where he was going. This mount stayed on the path without fail, though. “I don’t generally bring women home with me on the first date but needs must! I’m going to show you where I used to live. Off to see all of my friends and family and loved ones!” He laughed, grinning. “...and kill them, of course, for harming your dragon.”

Anyone else would probably find such a sentiment harsh. Or, at the least, a sign of moral or mental decay. But having had to lay low former friends and family herself, Sindreiel couldn’t judge him for his defensive enthusiasm. Sometimes it was easiest to think of them as monsters, instead of who they once were. Sometimes taking guilty pleasure in destroying the monsters that had profaned the people you once loved was the only way to cope.

“I’ve spent my life as a weapon, Runas. Just point me in the correct direction.” That was the only comfort she could offer him.

Runas simply nodded.

A few moments later, he picked up talking, seemingly unable to abide silence now that he had someone to talk to. “A bunch of mana addicts, that lot...” he chuckled. “Not me, though. No, not Runas. _My_ discipline is iron.” He trailed off, nodding to himself in a way that plainly said that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. “You know, Sindreiel, now that we’re friends, I want you to know that I’d do anything to help you. You know that, right? And because I’d do anything to help you, perhaps you could find it in your heart to repay me for my services with any mana crystals you might find? Not that it’s _required_ , of course, but it would be a nice gesture, don’t you think? Oh, speaking of...” He swung off of his arcane mount and darted off into the undergrowth. When he reemerged, his movements were less jittery. “My apologies, m’lady,” he said, bowing again. “So...why are you here in Azsuna, friend? Just visiting, or...?”

After riding for several more minutes, Sindreiel could feel the soft buzz of magic on her skin. Skin that wasn’t even attuned to the whisper of the arcane. She could only imagine what effect it was having on the nightfallen. As the thought occurred to her, she noticed the tension all over his frame.

“You don’t have to get any closer, Runas. I can find the way from here,” said Sindreiel, trying to make her voice sound more gentle than it usually did. She wasn’t very good at gentle anymore.

Runas turned on his mount, his eyes searching her face. “No, thank you, Sindreiel. I want to help. It feels good to be useful again.” That small, sad smile pulled at his lips. “I’ve missed it.”

Sindreiel shrugged. “I trust you to know your own limits. There is no cowardice in pulling back when you need to. I’d rather have you sane and healthy waiting for me down the road than have to cut you down because this crawling static in the air has driven you mad.”

“You can feel it?” asked Runas, darting a curious look in the demon hunter’s direction.

Sindreiel nodded. “It’s not strong, at least not to me. I can sense a demon at a thousand yards but arcane energy...” She gestured gracefully if inconclusively. “...it feels different. It’s electric and...cold, somehow. It doesn’t resonate as fel energy does.”

Runas nodded, a little frantically. “That makes sense. Electric? I never thought of it that way. But I suppose you’re right.” They crested a small rise and he eased his mount to a halt. With a grand sweep of his hand, he said, “Here it is. What remains of Zarkhenar.”

A deep crevice cut through the ruined city, pulsing with the telltale purple glow of the arcane. Withered crawled everywhere, scratching at the rocks, digging with their torn hands. Constructs wandered the ruins, guarding the main structure from intruders. The building itself was impressive and likely started out as a palace. Now, it was cracked and falling apart, violet light shimmering out of the gaps in the facade.

“Tell me what you can and I’ll take care of the rest.” Sindreiel’s eyes were already scanning the ruins, estimating how many withered she might have to fight through.

“I can help you, and I very much want to help you!, but I’m a bit distracted.” Runas’ restless fingers crawled over his arms, scratching and rubbing. “Look at it. Look at all that raw, unfiltered, mouthwatering mana...” He trailed off with a shuddering breath then suddenly slapped himself across the face, hard. “No. No! You must stay in control. You _must_ stay in control!” he said to himself. He turned his frantic, hungry eyes on the demon hunter. His voice had a quality of forced calm to it when he spoke again. “I simply need to clear my head. Yes, that’s it. A few of my depraved brethren carry small mana jewels around with them, for emergencies. Could you find a few for me? If you’re going to be killing them anyway?”

Sindreiel nodded. “Of course, Runas. Then we’ll work out how to get into that structure.” She turned away, unable to face the shaky, starving look that he was giving her. He knew his own limits. She had to trust in that.

Just then, a shimmer swirled in the air on the other side of the road. Senegos appeared, somewhat translucent. He chuckled at the demon hunter’s startled face. “Do not worry, Sindreiel, I am still safely in my pool. I may be weak but I am still a blue dragon. Throwing a projection is child’s play.”

Sindreiel made her way across the road, to the dragon’s glimmering image. It towered just as large as Senegos himself and looked far healthier. She glanced back at Runas, who was hunched over, pulling in on himself, making himself smaller as if that would help fight the cravings. “Greetings, Senegos! I’m heading into the ruins to fetch some supplies for our nightfallen friend. Once we have a plan to get into the palace, I will hunt down this so-called prince and end him, so that your brood may have peace.”

Senegos nodded. “These monsters _are_ pulling energy directly from the leylines. Find their mana siphons and punish the cowardly creatures that are using them.”

Sindreiel saluted and made her way into the ruins, picking a path carefully through the broken stones and jutting mana crystals. A voice, one that she had to assume belonged to Ael’Yith, taunted her progress...right up until she dispatched one of his lieutenants. Then the mocking stopped and the arcane energy raining down from the sky began. Fortunately, he seemed otherwise occupied, likely with the siphons themselves, so his deadly attention was short-lived. The other lieutenant fell nearly as quickly as the first, drawing Ael’Yith’s temporary wrath once again. Once the skies had settled, Sindreiel rifled through the robes of the nightfallen and withered she’d slain, gathering up a handful of lavender crystals for Runas.

She returned to the road and reported to Senegos, letting him know that the siphons outside of the main building had been unmanned. There were, however, protective towers preventing her from getting closer to the main structure.

“See if the nightfallen one has come up with anything,” said Senegos, shooting a distrustful look in Runas’ direction. The demon hunter followed his gaze to find that the nightfallen was sitting in the grass, his knees pulled up under his chin. The purple light of his eyes was fixed on her.

Sindreiel closed the space between them and crouched down next to Runas. He was trembling slightly and a light sheen of sweat covered his face, making it shine like damp ash. His fingers shook as he held out his opened hand in silent entreaty. She emptied the pouch of crystals into his palm.

Runas’ stumbling fingers closed around them, squeezing hard enough for the crystalline edges to bite into his skin. His other hand dug into his bag, pulling out a mortar and pestle and tipping the mana jewels into its bowl. Feverishly, he crushed them into a fine, sparkling dust.

He took a soft, shuddering breath and shook the dust out into his hands, rubbing it onto his skin. His arms, neck, and chest glittered with magic for a few heartbeats before his body absorbed the arcane energy. He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss. His body uncurled from its tense position, leaving him sitting back in the grass, his angular face tilted up toward the sun.

Sindreiel watched with curiosity, her head tilted to one side. She understood magic, though hers was a different flavor. She understood the craving for more, the desire for the power that flowed through her veins when she absorbed it. The look of euphoria on his face was familiar. Peaceful, serene, nearly orgasmic. It looked good on him, even with the danger it held.

She waited patiently until he came down. His eyes opened, fixing on her face, and they were clear.

“Much better,” he whispered, satisfied. He smiled up at the demon hunter, his voice gaining strength. “I knew I could count on you, my friend. Now allow me to return the favor.”

“I need to deactivate the pylons protecting the palace,” Sindreiel said, pitching her voice soft and low. Runas looked so calm, she found herself loathe to disturb it.

“Yes, yes, of course! And I know how you can destroy them. We shall save your dragons yet, don’t you worry!” He nodded reassuringly, smiling, and reached out one hand to pat the demon hunter’s. His touch carried that same strange buzzing sensation, but it was a little stronger now.

Sindreiel smiled, turning her hand under his to loosely clasp his long, slender fingers in her dainty ones. “I’m not worried, Runas. I know you’ll come through for us.”

The nightfallen looked so so distinctly uncomfortable that Sindreiel moved to let go of his hand. But his fingers closed around hers, their arcane hum almost painful. “No, please. It’s alright. I’m just...not accustomed to such touching.” He smiled, the soft, sad smile that showed what he was really feeling. “You and I...we make a great team. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looked so eager for simple interaction, for contact with someone that didn’t view him with distrust and repulsion that it tore at the demon hunter’s heart.

“We do make a great team,” Sindreiel said with a smile of her own.

Runas’ fingers tightened on hers, an affectionate squeeze. “Yes, well. Dragons! The mana pylons only work against ground targets. They’re defenseless from above! Send your whelplings to attack them, my friend. They can fly where we cannot.” He nodded happily, clearly proud of his idea. “Trust me.”

Sindreiel found herself nodding along. If what he said was true, and she had no reason to believe it wasn’t, his idea would work. If Senegos would send some of his children along to help. But without the pylons destroyed, she couldn’t kill Prince Ael’Yith. And as long as he lived, the leyline would continue being tapped, draining the blue dragons’ mana source and rendering them defenseless against the starving withered.

It _had_ to work.

“I do trust you,” she said, meeting his glowing eyes.

A series of emotions seemed to war on Runas’ face. Eventually he simply said, “Why? No one trusts nightfallen.”

Sindreiel got to her feet and rolled her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for the task ahead. “I know,” she said. She reached out one hand and smoothed Runas’ snowy hair, where it had become mussed during his wait for the crystals. “No one trusts Illidari, either.”

Senegos was watching them while trying to pretend that he wasn’t. But when the demon hunter turned her attention in his direction, he said, “I can sense him, in that large building to the east. One of these cretins must have tapped deep into the leyline. He will be heavily defended. The nightfallen’s scheme could work but I don’t like risking my children on the word of one such as him.”

“I will keep them safe, Senegos.” Standing at attention, trying to look as responsible and capable as possible, Sindreiel was hit by her own words. She had to locate the Pillars of Creation in order to stop the Legion. That was her responsibility. She’d been trained, changed, _built_ for this. But sometimes it pained her to know that the very people she was fighting to save considered her a demon, little better than the Legion, barely domesticated and liable to break at any moment. They didn’t trust her, they didn’t trust _any_ Illidari. Lord Illidan had paid the price for their fear and his Illidari carried that burden as surely as they carried the fel inside of them.

A dozen darting azure whelplings descended from the sky, clearly called by Senegos’ magic, and surrounded her. Their little wings made leathery flapping sounds as they flitted about, clearly ready and willing to assist. She smiled. These little creatures didn’t fear her, not yet anyway.

Taking out the pylons was a simple task with the help of the tiny blue dragons. When the last one fell, they winged their way back toward the Repose, already looking more vital. One of them even gave the demon hunter’s hand a playful nip as she waved goodbye.

Sindreiel made her way into the ruined palace, past the withered and the arcane constructs. If she was right about this Ael’Yith’s character, he’d be on the uppermost platform, looking down on his kingdom of rubble and magic.

As she climbed the stairs, the nightfallen’s voice echoed around her. “Did the dragon send you, interloper? Or was it that pathetic beggar, Runas?” A barrage of arcane blasts rained from the sky, sending Sindreiel running for cover. Ael’Yith’s laughter followed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Soon, you will all kneel to Azsuna’s new prince!”

The demon hunter charged the last few yards up the stairwell to the platform. Ael’Yith was standing there, just as she assumed he would be, looking awfully haughty for someone that presided over a land full of mindless remnants and broken pillars. “I kneel to no one but Lord Illidan, you wretch,” she growled. She could feel the demon inside of her writhing, begging for release. She was certain that her eyes were glowing as green as the nightfallen’s were purple.

“What is this?” Ael’Yith asked, amused. “A peasant, come to grovel before their prince?”

With a shout, Sindreiel lunged, her glaives leading the way. Ael’Yith looked genuinely startled for a moment, which drove home that he was actually completely delusional, not just trying to anger her. Then battle was joined and every thought flew out of her head. The demon hunter operated on years of training, instinct, and fury. The nightfallen seemed to be taunting her but the words were so far away that they didn’t even get processed by her mind. Her glaives danced and swayed, beating through his arcane shields. He flung a series of tiny energy bolts at her, small enough and numerous enough that one hit home.

Sindreiel screamed her rage, the demon inside surging to the surface. She felt her flesh warp and twist with fel energy. With one flap of her wings, she rose into the air and crashed down on the so-called prince, cracking the floor beneath him with her hooves. Ael’Yith scrambled back, frantically tracing runes in the air.

“This isn’t over, demon,” he snarled before disappearing.

Breathing heavily, her heart racing, the demon hunter took a couple of running steps to the edge of the balcony before leaping into the sky. She let the air catch her wings, gliding smoothly toward her companion. The wind on her face brought her back to herself, slowly. She loved to fly, even if it wasn’t really flight, but more of a controlled fall. From this height, the withered were nothing but ants crawling over the ruins. The leyline was simply a pretty violet scar. Senegos’ projection was gone.

She touched down near Runas, her hooves sounding sharply against an outcropping of stone. Her entire body spasmed for one painful instant as the fel energy left her. A blood elf again, more or less, she fell to one knee, catching her breath.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, bringing with it the sensation of static needles. She looked up to find Runas hovering over her, concern all over his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

Sindreiel nodded and stood. The metamorphosis always left her feeling a little shaky, but it was nothing she was unused to. “I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’m shocked you didn’t run screaming. Most do the first time they see me like that.”

Runas shrugged. “You’re not frightening. You’re my friend. We’re a team.”

Sindreiel blinked, fighting the stinging in her eyes. Since she’d joined Lord Illidan and taken the fel, this nightfallen was the first non-Illidari to earnestly call her a friend. “Thank you for being my friend, Runas. I like you.”

“Really? Why?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re genuine and kind. And you have the heart of a warrior.” Sindreiel laid her hand at the center of the nightfallen’s dusky, tattoo-covered chest.

“I do?”

Sindreiel nodded. “I know the kind of battles you fight every single moment. While our struggles aren’t the same, I understand your fight. And having been so strong for this long? Having helped me even though it put your control to the test?” She pressed her hand more insistently against his flesh, wanting to drive her words home despite the faint pain that came with touching him. “Yes, Runas, you have the heart of a warrior. And I, for one, am proud to call you my friend.”

The nightfallen’s hand moved to cover hers. His fingers twined with the demon hunter’s. “And I, you, my friend. I never thought that...my people are all...” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “Thank you. True friends are rare and kindred spirits rarer still.”

Sindreiel opened her mouth to reply but was cut short by Ael’Yith’s booming voice.

“Forget the leylines, brothers! We shall feast on the dragons instead!”

“Dammit!” Sindreiel shouted. The withered were already swarming, following the orders of the one who held their chains of hunger. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a way to get them back to the Repose before the withered and their prince fell upon the dragonflight. Much to her relief, Stellagosa winged in from the mountains, swooping low.

“What was that I just heard? Did he say ‘feast on the dragons’? We must check on grandfather right away!” The blue dragon landed with a thud that shook the earth beneath Sindreiel’s feet. “Let us depart, jump on!”

The demon hunter gave Runas a boost onto the dragon’s back. Stellagosa didn’t look thrilled with that development but there were bigger concerns.

“Look, they’re headed for grandfather’s pool! But it’s not too late...” Stellagosa shifted in the air, changing direction. “We’ll just jump the mountains to cut them off, and...” The dragon paused at the horrid sight of hundreds of withered clamoring up the mountainside. “They’re everywhere! Hold on tight, this is going to take some maneuvering.”

Sindreiel wrapped one arm around Runas’ lean waist and held on with her free hand, securing them both. His white hair flew in her face with the wind, carrying the scent of ozone and dried flowers. She caught herself thinking of the future. Of when the fighting was over. Of the time she hoped to spend at the Repose when the Legion was vanquished and Azeroth saved. And, strangely, Runas was there, in those thoughts, calm and happy, cured of his hunger, smiling and laughing.

Stellagosa swooped down near her grandfather’s pool. Withered were already pouring into the Repose, attacking Senegos and his brood. “This many withered threaten our entire flight! Please, Sindreiel, help revive my fallen brethren!”

Sindreiel slid off the dragon’s back and shook her head in disbelief. “I...I am not a healer, Stellagosa...”

A crystal was being shoved into her hands by Archmage Khadgar, who was holding off the withered by flinging energy balls into their numbers with his staff. “You are today, demon hunter,” he said tersely, his concentration clearly devoted to the battle at hand. “You killed their leader so they came here? That does make sense.” He paused to shift his aim, taking out three withered with one blast. “Without a leader, they’ll soon waste away. But you’ll need to put as many as possible down before they take the dragons with them!”

Sindreiel took the crystal and dashed off into the milling mass of withered, dodging their swiping hands and snapping teeth, cutting them down where they stood with one glaive, the mana crystal clasped in her other hand. She found the fallen dragons and gave them the energy they needed to get back on their feet and rejoin the fight. One of them, Cedonu, mumbled something about a nightfallen slinking into the caves.

She hoped that it was Runas and that he was safe from the fighting. In the heat of battle, it would be only too easy for one of the dragons to mistake him for one of the withered.

“That will have to do for now!” Khadgar’s voice rang out, commanding and true, over the din of dragon roars and withered screams.

Stellagosa’s head craned in Sindreiel’s direction. “Did I hear Cedonu say that he saw a nightfallen going into Leyhollow? I don’t like the sound of that.” Her tail swished back and forth, knocking a dozen withered to the ground. “Grandfather seems to be holding his own but the Archmage and I will keep an eye on him. Will you investigate the cavern?”

Sindreiel nodded her assent and fought her way through the withered to the Leyhollow. Its deep violet light surrounded her. Inside the cavern was almost peaceful, the sounds of fighting a distant thrum. She made her way deeper, her eyes adjusting to the dimness.

There, in one of the mana pools, was Runas. Sparks of arcane energy danced across his skin but he didn’t look blissful. He looked lost. Scared.

“Sindreiel, is that you, my friend?” His words were quiet, hesitant. A violent cough shook his form.

A low moan came from the demon hunter. _No...no, not like this..._ She took a steadying breath and said, “Yes, I am here.” She stepped forward into the pool, only to draw back in agony. The energies in the water rejected her fel essence.

“Thank you...for being here, my friend.” Runas coughed again, a painful and wet sound. “I...am weak.”

“You aren’t, Runas! You are not weak!” Sindreiel choked back a sob, trying to keep her voice strong, for him. “You have the heart of a warrior, remember?”

Runas chuckled, a sad and broken sound. “The hunger is devastating, my friend. I understand now why your dragon rests in these pools.” He coughed, smaller but more painfully. “I was going to warn you...I was...coming to warn you...Ael’Yith approaches...but...I....” He sank to one knee, his head barely above the level of the violet waters.

“No...Runas, please! Fight! We’re...we’re friends, aren’t we? Let me help you!” Greenish, glowing tears were flowing freely down Sindreiel’s cheeks, dropping into the mana pool with tiny hissing noises.

“The hunger is consuming my very mind, Sindreiel. It’s taking every ounce of my strength just to...” Runas trailed off, looking sleepy, before jerking his head up and staring around wildly. “Can you hear me, my friend?” his words trembled with fear.

“Yes. Yes, I can hear you. I’m with you. I’m right here.” Sindreiel reached into the pool again, trying to touch the nightfallen’s skin, desperate to give him something to hold on to so that he wouldn’t slip away. She’d watched so many people she’d cared for slip away. But as soon as the water touched her, it burned like acid, eating away at her fel-touched flesh. She gritted her teeth and pushed forward anyway, letting her glowing green blood pour into the pool. Her fingers barely reached his shoulder, brushing gently against his ashen skin.

Runas turned his head in the direction of her touch, his small sad, smile ghosting across his lips. A pained sob escaped him. “I...I cannot see you anymore...” The terror in his voice was palpable but underneath it was a current of exhausted acceptance. He’d fought so hard for so long. “I think...perhaps it is time to say goodbye, then.”

“Please...” The word tore from Sindreiel’s very soul. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Runas reached his shaking, thin hand to pat hers, once. Her blood, dripping freely, had to hurt him as much as the arcane water was hurting her. His face settled into a serene smile. “Thank you, my friend, for letting my last few hours mean something.”

His eyes darkened to a deep purple before lighting with a spark the exact color of the arcane energy flitting around him. His face sunk, becoming gaunt. His frame hunched in on itself as he got to his feet. Mindlessly, he shambled around the pool, soaking in its energy.

He was gone.

Sindreiel sank to her knees at the edge of the pool. Already, her fel energies were healing her wounds. Numbly, she watched her friend, her kindred spirit, stumble around in the water, his eyes unseeing. The sounds outside of the cavern were distant, hazy.

Until a voice broke through her grief.

“Yes, yes! Surrender your power, dragon! These pools belong to the Nightbourne now!”

Ael’Yith had arrived.

 _Help me, small one_ , the voice of Senegos echoed in her skull.

The demon hunter’s hands curled into fists. A tide of anger crashed through her, burning everything away but a thirst for vengeance.

Her steps sure, she left the Leyhollow.

The first wave of withered surrounded her. Without a second thought, she unleashed a wave of pure chaos energy. They fell, their anguished screams echoing the pain inside of her.

Ael’Yith sat astride his monstrous construct, which seemed to be draining the very life from Senegos. The demon hunter strode right up to its feet in challenge, despite it towering over her small form. She had fought pit lords, doomguards, and Eredar. What was some pitiful construct in the face of her might?

“You.” Sindreiel pointed at the nightfallen prince. “You are mine to kill.”

Ael’Yith laughed, haughty and confident. “You and what army, little demon? It seems your allies have already fallen. Where is your pet beggar? Did the coward run off?”

Sindreiel’s eyes took on the glow of the fel. Through clenched teeth, she replied, “Runas was brave and true. You are the coward. The weakling. And I? I _am_ the army.” Her wings sprung from her back even as her body twisted into its demonic shape. She lept into the air and crashed into the construct, shattering it in one blow. Its metallic parts scattered on the ground, clanking hollow and lifeless.

Ael’Yith tumbled but found his feet quickly. He didn’t have any more cocksure words to throw, however.

Sindreiel darted forward, leaving a trail of sickly green fire behind her. One hand, rendered larger and more powerful by her metamorphosis, closed around the nightfallen’s skull. She pulled him in close so that he could hear her low words, barely more than a growl, meant for him alone. “You deserve to suffer an eternity, filth. And I would take such immense pleasure in making that happen. But you are not worth the cost. You are not worth giving in to the Legion. You are nothing but a fool and a weakling. You are no prince.” She looked into his fearful eyes and _squeezed_ , crushing his skull like an eggshell. And it felt _good_. Dismissively, she tossed the remains away.

When she came back to herself, shaky and a little disoriented, she found that one of the whelplings was nudging her with its tiny snout. Transforming twice in so short of a span had left her more spent than usual. The fel energy that always crawled inside of her felt stronger, more insistent. She fought it down, denied it.

 _You work for me, not the other way around_ , she sternly told the demon inside her.

A faint, cruel laugh sounded in her head.

It was sickeningly echoed by a deep, joyful laugh in the material plane, coming from the elder dragon. Senegos reared up on his hind legs in triumph. “I haven’t felt this alive in years!” he shouted happily.

Sindreiel managed a smile for him. She was glad that the ancient dragon was reenergized and that his kin were safe. But, for a demon hunter, victory always seemed to be tainted with loss. The Illidari accepted that risk when they joined the ranks. They knew the sacrifices they were making and why. They became weapons for the greater good. Sometimes weapons broke. Sometimes they were taken by the enemy and repurposed. That was always a possibility.

Seeing an innocent pay the price for helping her was far more painful.

Senegos settled down, though a twinkle still lit his reptilian eyes. “What you’ve done, Sindreiel, not only to replenish my mana pools but also to save my brood, will not be forgotten. The blues of Aszuna are ever in your debt.”

The collected dragons bowed their heads to her in thanks. Even Archmage Khadgar nodded at her approvingly. The body of Ael’Yith caught her eye. Apparently dragons and Kirin Tor didn’t care much about methods as long as the job got done. It was refreshing.

Sindreiel steeled herself. “May I ask a minor favor of you then, Senegos? I realize that the Archmage and I are already requesting much but this would be a personal favor, not one for the whole of Azeroth.” She felt awkward asking for something for herself. That wasn’t what Illidari did.

“Of course, small one! What is it?” Senegos dipped his head down to the demon hunter’s level, making them eye to eye.

Sindreiel took a breath. “During the battle, Runas...slipped away. He remained loyal until the end. He put himself in a position of unbearable hunger and temptation to warn us about Ael’Yith. And he lost his personal struggle as a result.” Her eyes moved to the entrance of the Leyhollow. “You will find him in the mana pool near the cavern entrance. The favor I ask is this: contain him. Nourish him. Keep him safe and comfortable until I find a way to bring him back to himself.”

The dragon’s massive head tilted. “Sindreiel, I don’t think that it can be reversed,” he said gently, like a grandfather telling a child that their pet frog can’t come back to life.

Sindreiel bristled at his tone. “I’ve done the impossible more than once, Senegos. I make a habit of it.” She forced herself to take the proud tone out of her voice. “Please. He was my friend.”

The dragon shrugged. “Then so be it, small one. You saved my family. Keeping one withered safe from harm seems like a small request, in that light.”

“I thank you. Now, I must make haste to Nar’thalas, to see if the Tidestone still lies in its ruins.” Sindreiel snapped off a salute to the dragon.

As she turned onto the road leading south, Archmage Khadgar laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said gently. His eyes were kind.

“All is not lost, yet. And, yes, before you feel the need to say it, I know that it’s likely futile. But I have to try,” said Sindreiel.

Khadgar nodded. “I know. I, too, have lost those dear to me.” He paused and gave her an appraising look. “Mine was taken by the fel.”

Sindreiel arched a brow at him. “Then why do you have any trust in me?”

His eyes searched hers. “I have seen firsthand what the fel can do to a person. How they can be twisted, manipulated, corrupted. But I’ve also touched it myself and fought the temptation. I know that it’s possible, something that many deny.”

“Khadgar,” Sindreiel began. She rested her hand on his. “If I succumb to the Legion, I want you to be the one to end my life. The Illidari...I would tear through their ranks and Azeroth cannot afford that loss. You’re the only one that I can trust to deal with that possibility swiftly and efficiently.”

The archmage nodded solemnly. “That is a duty I am well versed in, Sindreiel.”

Leaving the demon hunter to ponder that statement, Khadgar strode off, back to the blue dragons. She had to assume they were trading arcane secrets. But that wasn’t her business. Her business was protecting worlds from the Legion.

She summoned her felsaber and set off in pursuit of the Tidestone.


End file.
